


On the Way to Burning the Casserole

by zarabithia



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Community: fanfic100, F/F, Multi, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You seem very comfortable about the high probability of us having an orgy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Way to Burning the Casserole

**Author's Note:**

> Written for harlot_ohara for the TFLN meme. Also fits the fanfic100 prompt .093: Thanksgiving.

Sharon's lips are very chapped, and Natasha finds that entirely appropriate. The chapped lips match the calloused fingers currently slipping under Natasha's bra to cup her breasts.

Natasha wonders, briefly, how Sharon makes such a good spy, with such calloused fingers that must surely give away her role. Not that Natasha minds, because the roughness, combined with the kind of impatience one expects from a lover of a _super-soldier_ , are sending shivers down to Natasha's toes.

But the practical side of her does wonder. At least until she decides that Sharon must look very convincing and very _nice_ in gloves.

With that, her practical side is free to compare the way both the lips and the rough hands teasing her skin go wonderfully with the ponytail that Sharon is sporting - though the hairdo is not nearly as well-kept as it had been moments ago, before they'd retired to the bedroom.

"We're going to burn the casserole," Sharon informs her, and she sounds appropriately remorseful, even if her wriggling beneath Natasha seems to demonstrate a complete lack of anything resembling remorse. "And then Sam will be very displeased at us."

It would be fair; they had promised to keep an eye on it. Unfortunately for Sam, Natasha has better plans than _cooking_ and Sharon's neck tastes better than green beans ever have.

"Then I suppose one of the other side dishes he and James went to collect will have to take its place," Natasha says, because she doesn't understand this holiday, but she sees no difference in canned green beans covered in canned soup and boxed bread crumbs covered in water.

Sharon laughs, a sound which is only briefly interrupted by the triumphant sound of Natasha's bra being unsnapped. The triumphant is echoed along Sharon's face, before she remembers that she is usually the "good" spy. "But green bean casserole is a sacred Turkey Day tradition, 'Tasha."

Be that as it may, it is not currently as sacred to Natasha as her efforts to get Sharon out of her uniform. It is not fair that only one of them is topless, especially since Sharon not being topless hides the breasts that surely taste as good as her neck.

"If I must endure this silly American holiday, which looks for excuses to celebrate gluttony in all its forms while many in your country go without, shouldn't I be entitled to my own flavor of a side dish?" Natasha asks, and the clasp of Sharon's costume must agree with the sentiment, because it finally decides to cooperate with her.

And she thinks about stating that, for the record, the vodka - while a nice gesture - does _not_ count as a side dish, though naked S.H.I.E.L.D. agents definitely do. But Sharon interrupts her with a groan.

"No, no. None of that talk. This is the first Thanksgiving that Steve _isn't_ going to be crying over Bucky's death. He gets to be happy this year. No talk of starving people, no matter how technically true it might be." Sharon is cute most of the time, but Natasha finds her particularly attractive when her face is bunched into an angry scowl. Such as it is now.

Natasha takes advantage of the extra prettiness to steal another taste of those chapped lips, before resuming her argument.

Because she is, quite often, the "bad" spy.

"So when Steve gets back from his mission to provide turkey to the troops stationed in Afghanistan, you want me to _lie_ to him?" Sharon's bra is a very convenient one, which snaps in the front, and does not take nearly as much trouble to remove as some of the bras that Natasha has removed in her time.

She removes it with relish and dips her head, to allow her mouth to taste a much more significant prize than Sharon's neck. Sharon gasps in response and thrusts her chest upward to meet Natasha's mouth, allowing Natasha even better access to provide a trail of kisses along the dip between Sharon's breasts.

Between kisses, she continues their argument, because after all, neither side has won. And what good is a battle that hasn't been won? It certainly isn't any _fun._

"I shudder to think you'd want me to lie to Captain America, Agent Carter."

Sharon laughs and Natasha feels a small degree of irritation at the way that the movement interrupts her trail of kisses. "Of all the people who are showing up at dinner today, the only person who doesn't lie to Steve on a regular basis - for his own good - is Sam." Sharon reaches up and tucks a stray piece of Natasha's hair behind her ear. The act is a small one, but it reminds Natasha how very much she has missed the smaller, more feminine hands - no matter how calloused they may be.

"Mm. No doubt that fact closely correlates to the fact that _everyone_ present at the dinner has shared a bed with Steve at one point or the other," Natasha points out.

It may otherwise have been a dangerous truth to bring up to a man's girlfriend, but since Natasha is lying with her head between the woman's breasts, she figures it is a safe topic to bring up.

"See? You ruin the mood today and make Steve cry, and you automatically toss all the chances we have to make this an orgy." And apparently, Natasha was _very_ right in her estimate of Sharon's lack of desire to be angry about the number of people who had shared a bed with her boyfriend, because her tone of voice is cheerful and upbeat enough that Natasha has to classify it as nothing short of _anticipation._

"You seem very comfortable about the high probability of us having an orgy." Natasha scoots down enough to rest her head on Sharon's stomach, and she ignores the light scar there. She wonders, vaguely, if Steve's hands can ignore it, if he even knows what it means, or if his hands always stumble over that particular spot when they dance across Sharon's skin.

"Eh, I'm ok with this; this can work." Sharon flashes her a grin. "Besides, it can be our apology to poor Sam for burning his casserole."

Natasha is not particularly convinced that anyone really _needs_ a reason to have an orgy, but if an excuse is necessary - and perhaps it will be for some of the participants - the reason Sharon offers is as good one one as any.

And so, she merely nods, before returning her full attention to the very activity that promises to guarantee the type of distraction that will result in a burnt casserole in the first place.


End file.
